SMUTLET SIX
by ILoveJorja
Summary: Sara gets a new court suit. And then she gets some. GSR.


**Summary**: Sara gets a new court suit. And then she gets some. GSR.

**SMUTLET SIX**

Sara had court in the morning. Ordinarily she wore one of two plain court suits, one beige, one navy, both with a white blouse, one with an open collar, the other not. Both conservative. Both professional. Both blah.

So she had the night off. Grissom did too, but he was working anyway, big news there, as he'd been spending even less time at home, and neglecting her more, than usual. There was a case_,_ it wasn't even his goddamn case, but he'd read the file and there was some little connection, a name, a face, a date, that he kept trying to tie to another.Hours, nights, he spent poring over old case files, like a dog worrying a bone. Sara was fed up.

She tried to share her anger and resentment but Grissom didn't get it, which only made her seethe the more.

_Desperate times, girl. _Sara went to a pricey department store she'd never set foot in before, determined to buy a new court suit that would shake things up. The saleslady, whose French accent was as authentic as French toast, took one look at the striking brunette with legs up to here and adopted her. She led her from rack to rack, murmuring compliments, fetching different sizes, and when Sara tried _it_ on they looked at each other and laughed.

"Hell yeah. Wrap it up to go."

"Mademoiselle has good taste. And one lucky man," she smirked.

A tight skirt, just to the thigh; in a deep mahogany brown shot with gold. It matched Sara's beautiful hair. A new pale gold blouse and a matching tight fitted jacket and her hair up in a sleek bun and Sara looked like a million fuckable bucks. _Court is going to be fun for once._

So she dressed and left for work while Grissom was still at the lab. Sara made a stop there, just to implement Step One. _Ah. There he is, walking toward me, with Nick_. Sara made her heels ring on the floor and Nick glanced up and stopped dead. He let out a low, loud, appreciative wolf whistle. Grissom automatically reprimanded him, but then _he_ saw what made the young man's face go slack.

_Sara. _Yowza. _Hot _damn. Legs, those impossibly long bare legs, up to a tight little skirt, a _hot, tight_, little skirt, every curve on that sexy body...Down boy. Close your mouth. He did, with an effort. Grissom's pants swiftly felt as tight as Sara's skirt did on her swinging hips.

And then she brushed by. She _winked_ at Grissom and his mouth watered. And then both men (and every other man around) turned and watched that sweet ass leaving and, well, there was a flurry of throat clearing and wardrobe adjustments and mopping of brows in the wake of the vision that was Sara Sidle. A young lab tech (no one knew his name) had to go outside for fresh air. He kept going, all the way home, and jerked off explosively in his bedroom for a full hour. _That'_s how hot Sara was.

When Sara walked into the courtroom, there was a collective gasp from every swinging dick present. Everyone with a uterus stared, but for a blonde dyke whose eyes bugged out. Sara sat primly in the first row and when she got up to give her testimony, there were multiple sharp intakes of breath.

The judge, a wrinkled, dried-up old man who looked like a raisin, stared at her and remembered his youth as his dick twitched. The bailiff forgot to swear her in until a deputy poked him. The prosecutor looked like he wanted to leap into the witness booth and ravish her. The defense attorney stammered and went all red in the face. Sara gave her testimony in her deep throaty musical voice and everyone with a pulse hung on her every word.

Sara got up and Judge 'Raisin' Rosenberg banged the gavel and called for a recess until the next day. The DA tried to ask her out but he waited a beat too long and she smiled sweetly and sauntered out. The dyke tried to follow her but Sara was lost in the crowd.

Step Two. Sara returned to the lab and ignored the renewed slack-jawed scrutiny until she came to Grissom's office. His head was down, reading glasses down his nose, scribbling away. He grunted in acknowledgment that someone had entered his space, but that was all. A whisper of silk landed on the paper before him. A thong. A brown. Lace. Thong.

Grissom looked up in time to see that sweet ass again, floating out his doorway. He fingered the thong. Sniffed the air that wafted up from it. Arousal. That scent of Sara's arousal. _Oh, sweet mother of God._

Sara slipped into the ladies' room to freshen up. She didn't have to wait long. Her pager buzzed. **My office. G. **Step Three complete. Sara smirked, applied another dab of dark red lipstick and sauntered back in.

"You wanted to see me?"

Grissom cleared his throat. He shoved the thong in his pocket when Brass, _damn it,_ arrived, lingered, then was quickly followed by Nick, Henry, Archie, Warrick, Hodges, Bobby-- every goddamn man who worked in the lab suddenly had urgent business in Grissom's office. Hell, it was a revolving door. And they all managed to get a good look at Ms. Sidle and her famous legs during their visit. Sara remained seated on the couch, calmly reading a report. She removed her jacket and folded it neatly alongside her, and crossed and uncrossed her legs in Grissom's direction whenever there was a pause in traffic. He saw a vision of paradise between those creamy thighs each time, and he silently groaned with need.

Greg came in and goggled at Sara. _Enough!_

Grissom barked at Greg and ordered him to close the door behind him.

His eyes met hers, both smoldering with an angry passion, she for his neglect and he for her reducing him to a throbbing horny male animal.

"Lock the door, Sara." Her eyebrows went up, and she silently asked, _Why don't you? _but his look was enough. She did.

"Shut the blinds." His voice was low.

Sara went from window to window and shut the blinds. When she turned back she saw why Grissom had remained seated throughout, so close to his desk. Still sitting, his belt was unbuckled and his pants just apart. An angry red cock was nestled in the zipper.

Grissom was at her in a flash and grasping her arms.

"See. What. You. Do to me," he panted. "With that fucking hot tight skirt. I've been hard as a fucking rock since I saw you this morning. I wanted to jack off on my paperwork."

"How do you think I feel, Grissom," she said in the same low intense aroused voice, taut with anger. "Like you'd rather fuck that paperwork than me. Like I have to spread my legs and go commando to get you to fucking notice me. Act like a _whore._"

"You. Are. Not. A. Whore." Grissom told her, pushing her against the wall. "But fuck, you make me feel like one! Like you can lead me around by my big dripping dick!"

His mouth was on her, hard and rough, and he squeezed her breast tight enough to hurt. Sara grunted and squeezed his ass and pulled him against her. Their mouths devoured each other, unable to get close enough. Grissom kicked her feet apart and slid his hand up the inside of her thigh. He roughly thrust a finger inside her. Sara moaned and nakedly ground against his hand. Grissom shoved his pants down to his knees, took his finger out of her hot pussy and sucked it, looking into her smoky brown eyes.

"C' mere." He shoved her skirt up with both hands and grabbed her bare ass.

"I could fuck you standing, right here," he growled into her ear, between bites on her neck as they ground together obscenely. "Bang that pussy up against the wall." He flicked the lights off and they were left in a bluish darkness. Sara pinched and scratched his smooth rounded ass like a cat in heat.

"I could spread you on my desk and fuck you there," he continued in the same hard low turned-on voice. "With your legs spread open to me. Or bend you over and take you from behind." He stuck two fingers in her pussy to the knuckle and twisted them around, the wet all over his hand.

Sara couldn't believe how hot this was. This was not like them. They were far from a plain vanilla couple in bed, but they'd never so much as kissed at work, and here he was, pants down, grinding his hard throbbing prick against her thigh, his hand up in her like she was a puppet and her skirt up around her waist. In his _office_. With all those eyes and ears only a wall away. _Fuck_ it was hot. Dirty sweaty sexy and _wrong_.

"Oh, let's see," Grissom growled, as he took it off her blouse and bra and threw them aside. "I could have you ride me on the _couch_. Or maybe just suck me offff? Unnggh," his voice wavered when she grabbed his dick and pulled it upward, pointing it at herself. Sara squeezed it hard and he groaned.

"I think," he choked out desperately, "I'll just fuck you on the floor."

They threw themselves down and he was instantly inside, pounding her, fucking his girlfriend, grabbing her breasts in turn and twisting her nipples and making her whimper. Sara shoved off his shirt and raked her nails on his chest and back until they left long red marks. Grissom bit and moaned and sucked her neck and stopped his thrusts, cupping her ass and helping her slap her body up to his. Grissom leaned back, put her leg on his shoulder, and fucked her. Hard and wet and deep. Sara bit his nipple, making him yelp. She bucked and ground her pelvis into his.

Sara felt a low rumbling wave of orgasm building and pulled his mouth to hers to muffle her cries of heated pleasure into it. He groaned back, pistoning desperately, both her legs on his shoulders now and scraping his knees. Now.

"_Fuck! Sara! God!"_ Grissom closed his mouth around a breast and yelled that into the flesh of her, hoping it would swallow it, like her pussy was swallowing his needy cock as he came. _Aaarrrhggghhh_. His come shot out into her tight wet heat and he arched his back.

Their bodies twitched and jerked in the last jolts of orgasm. Grissom pulled out and stroked himself. He sat back on his lower legs and looked at her, spread out and wanton and spent. On the floor of his office. _Sweet Jesus._ _What the hell came over me?_ Sara regarded him narrow-eyed, registering his shock at himself, and grabbed his beard down so she could kiss him hard.

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare regret this," she told him heatedly. "If you just stop," she hissed. "Stop taking me for granted. Stop letting the fucking paperwork and some dead case make you forget about your very alive girlfriend. I'll never have to seduce you here again."

"I won't," Grissom promised, wincing at the firm pull on his beard. "I won't...ever...neglect...you...again." He kissed her without all that anger, just a warm wet thankful sloppy kiss and Sara kissed him back, licking his tongue, and released the hold on his facial hair and stroked his cheek. Then he pulled her up to their feet against him, held her tight until their legs stopped trembling, and tugged down her skirt and pulled up his pants.

"But I reserve the right," he smirked at her as he buckled his belt and she disentangled her bra and blouse, "to seduce you, here, some other time."

"Hmm," she considered, as she handed him his shirt and he her thong. "You have a point. There are some other positions you mentioned, that deserve further investigation."

**THE END**


End file.
